Rockey's Thoughts

Chuck Peterson, a childhood best friend, recently passed away. It made me do some reflecting on that time in my life. It was 1962 and my family moved at the end of the school year from Sheridan, a suburb south of Denver, to the Peaceful Valley Scout Ranch a mile south of Elbert, Colorado. On the 4^th of July, a local man came to tell my parents that Elbert hosted a little league tournament every 4^th of July and if they had any boys of that age they could join in. I was in that age bracket and my parents said I could go, so I did. I sat on the bench that day and was never put in the game, but it was a new beginning. I found out that the boys within a year or two of my age got together every Saturday afternoon during the summer to practice baseball. Sometimes after we got tired we would go skinny dipping in a nearby ranch pond. It was like the “Sandlot,” a movie some years ago where a new boy in town falls in with a group of boys who practice baseball everyday on a field they called the sandlot. I was the new kid in town and the Elbert boys could have rejected me, but instead they were friendly and accepted me. They included: Steve and John Hermes, Mike and Gordon Harper, Danny Tweedy, Don Bolejack, Danny Gresham, Keith and Richard Ban, Frank and Roland Phillips, others I'm sure I'm forgetting and Chuck Peterson who became my best friend for the next several years.

I spent time at Chuck's house many times. One of my first experiences was plowing with Chuck. At the age of ten I already knew how to drive cars and trucks. With Chuck I learned to drive a hand clutch/throttle tractor. At the end of the field I had to watch behind the tractor to trip the dog and lift the plow. At the same time I had to watch ahead and steer the tractor so I didn't run through the fence. Then I had to decrease the throttle and, if necessary, disengage the clutch. That's four things to do at once with two hands. Another time Chuck taught me to harrow a summer fallow field. I learned that I shouldn't waste fuel going over the same ground twice, so the harrow should abut the last ground broken and not overlap. Once I helped Chuck shock corn stalks and I learned that I was very allergic to corn pollen as my eyes were nearly swollen shut when we went in to supper. Yet another time at Chuck's house I learned about working cattle in the spring. That day one cow was having trouble delivering her calf and the veterinarian had been called. Chuck assisted the vet and I learned about a cesarean section. When the Boy Scouts built their swimming pool, I had Chuck over to go swimming. Of course, we didn't obey all of the rules and we spent a few minutes in time out.

Elbert had a small school system that allowed us to participate in everything: basketball, track, baseball, band and choir. Chuck and I would sit together on school trips. We spent time together in 4-H and the county fair. He remained a good friend through high school. After high school our lives took us in different directions and I don't remember seeing Chuck again. Chuck went in the direction of ranching and rodeo. I went in the direction of the Air Force and aerospace.

In a counseling course I took years ago, the instructor gave an illustration to explain why some people need more affirmations to feel good about themselves. He suggested imagining our lives like a 55-gallon barrel that is open at the top and has a mesh bottom. Affirmations from significant people in our lives place stones in our barrels. In size they may range from large rocks down to grains of sand. Daily affirmations are like liquid that drain out the bottom of the barrel. The more rocks and sand a person has in their barrel, the less liquid affirmations are required to fill the barrel and the slower the liquid is to drain out. After all this time, fifty to sixty years later, my childhood friendship with Chuck Peterson is still a large stone of affirmation deep in the barrel of my life. Thank you Chuck.